


You

by angelview



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Action & Romance, Age changes throughout story, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, Angelview, Angst, Author Luke Skywalker, BUT FOR THE SAKE OF THE STORYLINE, Badass Rey, Ben Solo - Freeform, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, CEO Ben Solo, Comic, Comic Book Violence, Corruption, Crime Fighting, Devoted Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Dimension Travel, Doctor Rey (Star Wars), Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Falling In Love, Fencing, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Framed for murder, Heavy Angst, I HATE REY SKYWALKER SO DONT @ ME, Idiots in Love, Inspired by K-Drama | Korean Drama, Kdrama, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Not Related, Loss of Parent(s), Love, Love at First Sight, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, Medical Professionals, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Mentions of Past Suicidal Thoughts/Attempts, Modern Era, Murder, Mutual Pining, Nurse Rey (Star Wars), Olympian Ben Solo, POV Alternating, Parallel Universes, Past Character Death, Police Brutality, Protective Rey (Star Wars), Rey - Freeform, Rey Needs A Hug, Rey Skywalker, Rey saves the day, Reylo - Freeform, Reylo— Freeform, Rich Ben Solo, Soft Ben Solo, Star Wars References, Strangers to Lovers, Suicide Attempt, Time Skips, W- Two Worlds, Young Ben Solo, ang3lview, as in, based on a kdrama, but I’m tagging just in case, but it’s entirely based off of Korean drama W, but not an actual thing, comic book, it works, it’s only a thought, minor Ben Solo/Rose Tico, nothing graphic, political corruption, potential trigger warnings, reylo fic, this is meant to be a dig at jj abrams, two worlds apart, w - Freeform, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24125605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelview/pseuds/angelview
Summary: Sometimes Ben Solo feels like his life is a terrible story in which he just happens to be the main character of...And all of that changes when a zany, dorky, beautiful medical student named Rey collides into his world like a shooting star gliding against the night sky...Or could it be a fatal asteroid?It all seems like a cruel cosmic joke sometimes.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. The Rise and Fall Of Ben Solo

**Author's Note:**

> ~A Modern AU Reylo Story Based on ‘W’ (AKA ‘W— Two Worlds’ / ‘W— Two Worlds Apart), written by Song Jae-Jung~
> 
> I love the drama this is based off of and so I’m really just doing this for my own musings and fun. I hope you guys like it! 
> 
> As always, please read the tags because they apply from chapter 1 onward. Because of the surrounding elements of the story (past experience/origin story of characters), I’ve rated my fic ‘M,’ which I usually don’t do because I avoid going into “graphic,” “illicit,” “controversial” storytelling; I don’t plan to with this either, but I decided to rate it anyway just in case this might not appeal or seem like the right fit for everyone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Ben Solo, Olympic Fencer Extrordinare. At age 17, he rose to fame and prominence, and seemed it have it all; looks, talent, wealth, family. 
> 
> All to lose everything in one heinous moment.

_ **1 | The Rise And Fall Of Ben Solo** _

The stadium was dimly lit except for the court in the center; fluorescent lights illuminated the piste like a broadway show. It was a simple scene: the strip was marked minimally and there were only three people on display. Two of them, the players, were clad in all-white and faced the other, though their expressions were indiscernible. The man on the right wore a white mask with two orange stripes on the side; the one of the left worse a black mask with silver chrome details.

And in the middle, the referee— a nondescript man wearing a suit.

Each saluted the other, then the referee, then the judges at their table, tucked away and out of sight.

“ _En garde!_ ”

The two men braced and posed, sabres locked tight. They each snagged at their masks, ensuring they were secured and tight.

“Ready?”

The two gist their heads to the referee.

“ _Fence_!”

Like a cobra, the man on the left struck his opponent as if the latter was a mouse.

“Oh! And Ben Solo of Chandrila is timed to perfection,” the first announcer commented.

“He’s swift on his feet, poised as ever,” the second agreed.

“He advances with no hesitation.”

The referee restarted the commencement and they were at it again. This time, the fencer on the right lunged, causing Ben Solo to stumble back.

“Hennix Quarren representing Elphrona might have found his rhythm, though.”

“Would you look at that balestra?”

“Solo better watch his back! En garde, most definitely!”

Ben shifted his blade around Hennix’s, deflecting the attack. Hennix countered his defense by sliding his blade opposite, rendering Ben vulnerable and striking a touch.

“Oi! Such a close one for Solo, but who courbe anticipated that vicious coulé from Quarren?!”

“Not me, Artoo, not me! This puts Solo and Hennix at a tie, four and four! If Hennix comes up and brings in even more of that refined footwork, he would deny Solo the opportunity of being the youngest Olympic Fencer to take home the gold!”

“And what a blow that would be, Threepio! His father, Han Solo was the champion fencer back in ‘82, representing Chandrila. Like father, like son!”

“Hopefully we will see the rise of Ben Solo on this historic day.”

* * *

The words of the overly enthused announcers caused the hair on Ben’s clothed neck to stand. He knew his father was off to the side, watching him with pride; pride and anxiety.

Ancxiety because he wanted this for Ben. Of course he did; he wanted his son to be someone. To feel something. To have something to be proud of. Of course he did. He had expressed this wish to Ben every chance he got. Every pain-staking , grueling hour of practicing until his fingers could no longer grasp the sabre, each moment was more rigorous than the next; on the same accord, though, each second of strain and cramping the wrist was compensated with hearty laughter and blood-pumping sportsmanship.

Han even have him his beloved antique longsword, nicknamed _The Millenium Falcon_ as a gift once Ben received his acceptance into Team USA for the 2010 Olympics. It was his father’s prized possession and yet he gave it to him as if he were merely passing the torch; a natural right of passage, unquestionably his for the taking.

His protests of merit fell on deaf ears.

‘ _You’ve got the gift, kid_ ,’ Han would tell him.

‘ _Not like you, though_ ,’ he’d counter.

‘ _You’re right. You’re even better_.’

He felt his father’s eyes burning on him from across the way. He wasn’t sure what he wanted more; to win this for the sake of pleasing his beloved father or to win for the sake of making all those years of diligent, disciplined practice worth it.

Hennrix was no novice either; no, in fact, he was quite a precise and talented fencer. He had been in the fame years longer than Ben had, and he trained at one o the most prestigious schools in Elphrona; he had been the reining champion in Olympic Fencing for the past three years. This was Ben’s first time playing on a professional level— and in the ranks of the Olympics, no less.

_What are the odds of_ me _beating_ him _?_ He thought bitterly as the remainder of their minute break was dwindling down.

He looked over and Hennix just stood there, almost idly fiddling with his sabre. Ben couldn’t imagine being that relaxed in a time like this.

He had faired so poorly thus far; he’d never needed to be engaged in such long bouts as he did tonight, the longest being six minutes. Not only that, but usually he was so swift on his feet and so fluent in each attack and beat. It didn’t matter how good he usually was, though; what mattered was that he wasn’t doing good now. He knew his father wouldn’t be angry at him for his lapse, but he was angry at himself over it. Each little mistake and slip added a new level of potency to his growing temper.

His fiery musings were interrupted by the slow, echoing sound of of the next— and final— bout being initiated.

“ _En garde_!”

It seemed to Ben like the entire world paused and then continued in slow motion. His heartbeat picked up and he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, causing a flap of his black, swept bangs to hand to his forehead. He swayed his head slightly so as to rebuff it; all of his nerves and senses were heightened as the adrenaline of this vital moment flushed through him. It was like his veins were live wire and the restlessness and pressure in the air was an electric currant.

“Ready?” The referee called one last time, voice muffled.

He nodded and took in a deep breath, despite the stuffiness of his mask. His hand gripped the guard and he spaced his feet to stand in place; he anchored his weight to his front leg and angled the foot behind in the opposite direction. Ready to make his last advance.

“ _Fence_!”

He shifted his front foot at a 90 degree angle and extended out his back leg and rested at the heel as a spring-support. Hennix avance toward him and he pushed off; he splayed one arm in front of his chest and the other, baring his sabre is stretched out and pointing it horizontally.

_It’s now or never._

He could practically hear his father’s words contradicting every doubt he had allowed to concentrate within:

‘ _Never tell me the odds_.’

With that, he twisted to his side in one client movement and braced his feet flat in line with each other, and he flunged— his final attack.

His head was spinning, his surroundings went from being nearly frozen to moving at hyper speed from one second to the next.

Pressure built in his chest and everything and everyone around him went dead silent.

_Was I touched?_

_I feel something, I think I—_

He turned around and realized what he felt were Han’s arms hanging around him, pulling him in for a tight embrace.

“You did it, kid, you did it!” Han cheered as they swayed in each other’s arms.

And then he realized it: the crowd was going wild and everyone was shouting his name.

“ _Solo! Solo! Solo!_ ” Extenuating each vowel.

“I won?!” Ben asked as he threw his helmet and mask off, freeing his sweat-drenched, ebony waves and allowing the cool air of the area cooling his flustered cheeks.

“Yes, Ben, yes you did!” Han confirmed, patting him on the back.

“Did you see that Passata Sotto?! Unbelievable! The kid is on fire! Ben Solo, team USA takes the gold!”

“I would say we can all now start calling him The Night Thruster, but I remembered that this is a family program,” Artoo snorted.

“The Youngest Olympic Fencer to take home Gold in the history of this global event! A groundbreaking day for the Solos and for the United States!”

One of the personnel joined in the revelry happening around Ben, celebrating his miraculous, sleek victory, and placed the glimmering medal around his neck, hanging low like a golden moon down his torso.

“He pulled through on that last one, breaking the tie to the nines! No pun intended!”

Threepio chuckled. “Always a kidder, Artoo! This is just the beginning for the young athlete.”

“This is just the beginning, kid,” Han laughed with gentle pride as he pulled Ben in for one last hug.

“But I can say one thing— Ben Solo _is_ on the rise and is _destined_ for greatness.”

_Destined for greatness._

* * *

Hey guys, sorry I was running late. I just—,” Ben announced as he stepped into his house but was met with silence. He had just finished his last class for the week and was supposed to join his family for their usual Friday movie night.

He expected to see his mom, Leia, preparing popcorn in the adjoining kitchen; his father splayed out on the recliner chair, like always; and his sister, Kaydel, fidgeting with her flip phone on the sofa, impassive to the rest of the family. Usually there was normal, comfortable hustle and bustle going on around the Solo house, but this time there was nothing.

Ben felt alone. He felt like he was the only living thing in the room as soon as he walked in.

And he was.

* * *

The older man shifted out of his seat and stalked his way over to Ben’s, resting his hands on the back of his seat.

The man smelled of stale coffee and cigarettes; he was old and spoiled, nothing inviting about him. His eyes were a fierce, deadly blue and his nose pointed like a beak; in a way, Ben was glad to have him behind him instead of in front; that way he didn’t have to look at those predatory, accusing eyes.

“So you mean to tell me that you just,” he tested his words. “You just sauntered in your house last night, and found your mother, father, and younger sister... dead?”

His throat bobbed as the air caught in his lungs; he couldn’t even acknowledge the District Attorney’s statement without feeling his eyes burn with impending tears.

“Tell me, boy,” he prodded, sinking his fingers into his shoulders. “Is that the truth?”

“Yes,” he muttered as the sudden movement caused a slight jolt. “I— I walked in and I expected to see everyone in their usual spots but I saw no one. It was quiet, and I went into the family room and— and—“

He couldn’t continue. He gave way to sobs.

“Save your tears for the trial, you little bastard. You can’t fool me. You think because you’re young and you’re famous and have a pretty face that you can just do whatever you want whenever you want. But you can’t. Nothign gets passed Sheev Palpatine,” the DA prided himself in announcing. “You hated your old man and you wanted him dead!” He barked.

Ben slammed his fists against the cold metal table. “No I didn’t! I would never do that!”

Palpatine thrusted his hands against his back, pushing him forward. He gripped his hair in tufts between his fingers and smacked his head against the table.

“Don’t you raise your voice at me! And to think you probably talked to your mother that way.”

His jab made no sense and couldn’t have been further than the truth, but it was all it took for Ben to lose it. He flung back and grabbed Palpatine’s forearms, hoisting him into the air before slamming him down to the hard ground. His fists flew at the man senselessly, as if some inhuman, primal instinct took over and called for this attack.

He could’ve sworn he saw Palpatine snickering with satisfaction as his face began turning red and purple with bruising and blows.

He had every reason to; this was all the evidence he needed to showcase that Ben Solo was an entitled teen-heartthrob with a faculty for violence and tendency to lash out when he deems necessary. This was exactly the type of person who would lash out and murder his whole family, mercilessly impaling them with his prized sword, The Millennium Falcon, in a surprise assault. It was all that as needed to build the case: motive.

It was his weapon, with his fingerprints on it, after all. And _that_ was indisputable.

* * *

“You know, there’s talk that he’s going to start a bid for the senate.”

All Ben could do was scoff. “Figures.”

Charles lowered his eyes and his hands drifted over his matted beard. “Kid, if he get you on this... this is gonna look real good for him.”

_‘He’s using you,’ is what uncle Chewy is telling me._

This came as no surprise to Ben. Sheev Palpatine had a certain hunger that lasted in his eyes, like nothing would ever Ben enough. Whatever power he had in the interrogation room over Ben wasn’t enough; he needed more. He wanted Ben to lash out and lose control so he could gain it. He provoked him methodically, and he got the desired outcome.

With Palpatine, his own nature betrayed him. His temper had always been a problem. He was too off-balanced, too extreme. Even when he practiced fencing, that was a recurring issue. When he couldn’t het his advances just right, he’d snarl and growl. He’d get frustrated and throw his sabre down, walking off in a huff. It got the best of him.

But this hadn’t been one of those times— not with his family.

His lips quivered and he pleaded. “Chewy. You know I wouldn’t do that to him. To mom. To Kay. To anyone.”

Chewy nodded solemnly. “I know. Believe me as much as I believe you, kid.” Chewy shifted in his seat and now tears found their way down his face as well. “Ben...”

He raised his head, afraid to look at his uncle. Charles Bacca was as tough as nails; he never gave way to tears. This had to be something bad. Though he could hardly imagine what could be even worse than everything that’s already happened.

“We had to have the service... we couldn’t wait.”

If he wasn’t sobbing before, he sure was now.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye. Not in life, nor death.

* * *

“Your honor, I make my concluding statement, not as a testament of the brutality and wickedness of to _my own_ abuser,” Palpatine coyly angled his face so the sunken, purple and gray skin from the attack would be prominent. “But as a plea. A plea on the behalf of society. We don’t need monsters like Ben Solo, wreaking havoc on the earth around us. For every selfish, vain, pretty face comes a mind full of deplorable intentions. And intentions lead to actions. If he couldn’t withhold his animalistic rage and hatred from his aging father, delicate, fragile mother, and soft, innocent younger sister— or _me_ , a frail older man who was _just_ trying to _help_ him— who of us here really is safe?”

Murmurs filled the courtroom, mixed with various scoffs and gasps. Ben felt each and every eye in the room all focused on him, like he were bacteria under a microscope. He was not small by any means; quite the opposite in fact, being over six-foot-three inches tall with a muscular, broad frame. But he felt tiny in that moment. Weak and tiny, like a battered bug just begging for someone to end its suffering and step on it once and for all. He felt his shoulders cave inward and his head droop down. He watched the crystal droplets falling from his eyes pool on the drab wooden tabletop beneath him.

He tried to disassociate from his current state of being and count the tears as they fell, but this was a pointless endeavor. How could he bother, distracting himself when his life was hanging in the air like a noose being prepared for a hanging?

“And that is why I ask— no, I _beg_ — that the maximum sentence be considered in the case of Benjamin Organa Solo. That being,” he sneered, glancing at Ben up and down across the way. Again— the ghost of a smug grin spread across the slit that would be considered his mouth. He mocked him, knowing full well that this moment was the to be the catastrophic _fall_ of Ben Solo. 

“Capitol Punishment— _death_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ART CREDIT:
> 
> Art (portraits of Ben Solo and Rey) done by one of my favorite artists Selina! Thank you so much Selina!!! Check her out on twitter:
> 
> twitter.com/selunchen
> 
> (City imagery edited by me, taken from Pexel)
> 
> ‘W’ Cover manip by me


	2. Just Rey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, while Ben Solo endeavors to navigate through his life and overcome the impossible... meet Rey, a quiet Medical Student just trying to navigate through her own life in New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! But here you go!

**Chapter 2: Just Rey**

Britney Spear’s airy voice blasted into Rey’s ears.

‘ _You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under,’_

_‘With the taste of a poison paradise,’_

_‘I’m addicted to you, don’t you know that you’re toxic?_ ’

“Skywalker, wake up.”

Rey just groaned and swiped at the air dismissively, refusing to even lift her head up from the desk.

“That’s your phone that keeps ringing, it’s annoying as hell,” Din complained while he laid across the couch, equally groggy.

“S’your phone,” she retorted. “Armiegeddon’s gonna flip on you, Din.”

“Mmm-mm. That’s not even my ringtone.”

She huffed and wiped her face, dented with creases from the uneven wood and dried saliva smeared on the corner of her mouth. “When I look at my phone and confirm that it wasn’t me, you’re buying me coffee tomorrow.”

Din kept his eyes closed but his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Fine.”

Rey smiled triumphantly as she reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out her phone. Her face immediately soured with horror when she realized there were twelve missed calls and seven unanswered text messages, all from one person: ‘Dr. Armiegeddon’— it was Armitage Hux, the head surgeon of The Rian Johnson Medical Center.

She squealed in terror and rushed to her feet, but tossed the blue stressballl that was on the desk at Din before leaving.

“Ouch!” He hissed as the ball deflected off his forehead and onto the ground. “What was that for?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because you didn’t wake me sooner!”

Din got up and sat upright, putting his hands up defensively. “I told you that your phone was ringing! I had dozed off too, you know. I alerted you as soon as I heard it. And of course I knew it was your phone. I most definitely don’t have ‘Toxic’ as my ringtone.”

Rey just sighed and threw her phone into her pocket to make her way out. She had already wasted enough time; she and Din had been assisting Dr. Hux that morning on a carotid endarterectomy that was scheduled first thing in the morning and went on for hours. It was the biggest surgery Rey had participated in thus far in her residency and since they were understaffed that morning, she and Din had to be by Hux’s side at all times and thus were constantly on their feet.

More than anything, she was worn out from the stress and thrill of it; for each feat she met and crossed, she was always looking for more, the next step, the next goal to reach out for. But she was now doubting whether or not she’d actually get the chance to advance since she was even higher up on Hux’s list. He was a cranky, ornery sort of man, difficult to tolerate and even more difficult to please. She was confident that she had done exceptionally well that morning, and all Hux had to say for it was a simple dismissal, telling her and Din that they could take an extra hour off for lunch.

Her nap exceeded that by only fifteen minutes, but that was enough for Hux to mark her off for.

She took a deep breath before knocking on the mahogany door— the only non-metal or non-white door in the entire unit.

‘ _Armitage D. Hux, M.D., M.S_.’ the gold plaque atop the door read. It was enough to make her stomach curdle.

She knocked lightly, secretly hoping Hux would be in the middle of something and unable to meet with her.

“Come in,” he hissed.

_Please show me mercy_ , she begged to herself as she tried her best to wipe the doomed grimace off her face and replace it with a polite smile.

“Johnson,” he acknowledged her arrival without looking up from his computer. “Good to know you’re still alive.”

She feigned a chuckle. “Yeah, I’m very sorry about that, sir. I don’t know what happened, I just—“

“You were lazily lying about, ignoring the calls of your superiors,” he answered for her. He rolled his chair to the side to face her and crossed his arms while his eyes glared at her. “Someone could’ve been in for a 146.9 and you would’ve been useless to them. You would be complicit if that were to have happened, you know.”

She did her best to look remorseful, but she knew Hux was being dramatic as usual. If someone would have come in for a code 146.9– cardiac arrest— she would be the last person Hux would want around. His usual staff was in, so he wouldn’t bother to call her or Din for that sort of thing. But still, she did accept that she should’ve been on-call.

“I’m sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Whatever.” She was used to that look from him.

It was as if he were saying to her with his eyes: ‘ _oh, just you. Insignificant. Whatever. Just Rey.’_

His frosted glance turned to intrigue. He studied her carefully for a moment, then looked around as if someone may be lurking nearby. “Close that door, please,” he told her.

She closed it and came closer to him when he gestured her to do so. Her heart was beating and sweat began to pool.

_Oh god. I’m in trouble._

_He’s gonna mark me for this._

_He’s gonna flip out._

_He’s going to have my residency taken away._

She panicked and forced a weak grin that looked more like a wince. “Sir?”

Hux’s deep blue eyes narrowed and a long, bony, pale finger tapped against his chin as if he were in deep contemplation as he leaned in closer to her. He stayed that way for another moment and finally sat back with his hands carded over his desk.

“I asked you in here because I need to know something.”

She gulped. “Okay...”

Oddly enough, his face lit up. “Why didn’t you tell me your father is _the_ Luke Skywalker?”

_That... was not what I was expecting._

“Um— uh— w-what? Pardon me?” Her eyes widened.

He chuckled, which she swore was the first time she’d ever seen the man show anything other than disdain or indifference. “Yes! You heard me,” he waved his hand in gesture for her to take a seat. “How come you’ve never mentioned your father is the creator of that brilliant comic book series?!”

A gasp escaped out.

_Hux is a fan? Of my father?_

“I...,” she struggled, unsure how to acknowledge the sentiments. “I— I’m sorry, sir. I had no idea you were a fan.”

Hux’s eyes widened and he raised his hand in the air, Palm hovering over her. She flinched, thinking he was going to smack her.

“Give me five, girlfriend.”

She had to fight back the loud chortle she wanted to release. She let out a breathy, relieved giggle and met his hand for the high-five.

“I’m glad you’re a fan, too!”

He actually laughed. “Who _isn’t_ a fan? Those things are damn brilliant! The guy, Ben Solo — he’s such a cool person!” He reached into his briefcase that rested against the desk on the floor and pulled out a glossy, crisp comic.

It was the most recent issue of ‘W.’

The cover featured the distinct illustration of the protagonist of ‘W,’ Ben Solo. He leaned against some metal bars with a cityscape surrounding him in the backdrop, giving a daring, sultry smirk to the reader. His blue dress shirt was impossibly form-fitting, the buttons and seams bunching up across his toned chest.

He was the picture definition of ‘ _sexy_.’

She found herself smiling now. “He really is,” she agreed, voice heavy with admiration. “I _love_ him, and I still can’t believe the last one is coming out tomorrow!”

He mirrored her pout with his own, nodding in agreement. “I know! Me either! Your father could write a thousand more and I can say with confidence I would read each and every one of them!”

Even though Hux was the last person she wanted to be talking to, she beamed with fondness simply at the thought Ben Solo, the protagonist of her father’s comic book series ‘W.’ It was like Ben Solo personified the man of her dreams— cool, bold, fearless, resilient, and just so... _heroic_. He was the epitome of an underdog, having raised above a tragic beginning and now living life as an honorable, hunky modern superhero— loved by all, naturally. What was there to _not_ like when it came to Ben Solo?

He was so handsome, too. Or at least, she imagined he would be if the detailed illustrations of him were to be embodied by a real person. Black, wavy hair that looked unfairly soft, framing those heated, deep eyes that appeared olive green in certain lighting, honey-and-whiskey in others. He was tall, muscular, firm... and just very _big_. Masculine, captivating, enthralling.

Clark Kent had nothing on Ben Solo, as far as Rey was concerned.

“Same. You know, I think my father never fully grasped how successful and beloved ‘W’ has been. I wish he would keep doing it as well,” she sighed.

Hux nodded and looked around again before leaning in closer and looked up at her through his pale lashes.

“Do you... _know_ how it will end, Miss Skywalker?”

_Ah. So he wants spoilers_ , she smirked at the realization.

“I don’t know, actually,” she admitted. And it was true. She wasn’t exactly in _regular_ contact with Luke these days. Not since her mother and he divorced a few years ago. He wasn’t really the same after that; not that he was ever really ‘ _there_ ’ before though.

Hux pursed his lips and huffed in disappointment. He went back to scrolling on his computer and Rey wasn’t sure if this was his way of dismissing her.

Before she could get up, he spoke. “I’m looking here on my schedule,” he trailed slowly as he continued clocking at his mouse. “And it appears as though I have a Septal Myotomy scheduled for Monday of next week.”

Her cheeks reddened and her lips parted. She had just done a report on the risky procedure and had peppered the piece with comments stating how much she yearned to participate in the procedure. It felt like a right of passage in her career, and she was always looking up toward the next level.

Hux smirked, realizing they were now equally matched with leverage over the other. “I could use an assistant on that...”

It was as if Rey was a starving dog and Hux was dangling a bone in front of her. She knew it, he knew it.

“Oh?” She tried to play it cool.

The trance was interrupted by a knock.

He groaned and barked. “What! What is it?”

The door opened ajar and Din slid in. He seemed caught off guard to see Rey sitting down with Hux like that, since Hux never let any of the residential students bask in his presence so casually.

“What! Get on with it,” Hux commanded.

Din gaped and gawked nervously. “Sorry sir, didn’t mean to disrupt. I was coming to tell you that Dr. Andor said he was trying to page you but you weren’t responding.”

Hux scoffed. “I was _busy_ , Mr. Djarin. I’m currently discussing something of _extreme_ importance with Miss Skywalker here.” He couldn’t hide the excited, giddy expression forming on his face. “We were talking about her outstanding father, _the_ Luke Skywalker. Are you familiar with ‘W’?”

Rey felt a bit embarrassed by Hux’s unnecessary bragging, especially when Din rolled his eyes and scoffed himself.

“Of course I know ‘W,’ it’s like a household name.”

Din was casually aware of Rey’s connection to Skywalker but never seemed all that interested, so his reaction came of no surprise to her.

“Anyway,” Hux emphasized, turning his attention back to Rey. “Miss Skywalker, I would love your assistance on that Myotomy... and I _also_ would love it if you could provide some _insight_ on that finale.”

Din and Rey both gasped. “Why does _she_ get to help you with that?” He complained.

He chuckled and shrugged, returning to his usual state of arrogance and impassiveness. “Because I said so.”

His answer and his choice were clearly unfair and selfish... and a bit unethical, but Rey didn’t really care. Not that much, anyway; she _really_ wanted to do this, and it was her only foreseeable opportunity to get in on that procedure, so she knew better than to deny herself access to it. Plus, she knew she deserved it. Din had been on Hux’s staff for other procedures that Rey wasn’t invited on. She suspected that either Hux was a major misogynist or just had it out for her personally; she wasn’t sure, it was probably both though. But that was the hand she had been dealt and she was going to play it while she could.

“Yes, Dr. Hux. Of course. I would _love_ to be part of that, and I’ll be happy to check in with my father. I can give him a call after my shift is over.”

Hux chuckled and waved his hand out. “Don’t even worry about that! You’ve had a long day, I’m sure you’re exhausted. Why don’t you leave a bit early and go spend some quality time with your father? I’ll mark you as ‘complete’ for the full shift, of course. I’m sure that would be a wonderful treat after doing so _well_ on that endarterectomy earlier!”

She giggled. It was so obvious what Hux was doing, and it was delightful. She wanted to cherish the moment; this was the first time she ever had any leverage over the jerk and she relished it. Especially since it was likely the last time she ever would.

“Of course! Thanks, Dr. Hux!” She cheered as she rose her feet and went in the direction of the staff lounge to retrieve her things. “Bye-bye!”

She winked at Din on her way out, causing his brows to furrow.

He swung toward Hux. “That’s so unfair, sir!”

Hux shrugged and chuckled again. “That’s life, Mr. Djarin. I can’t be held responsible for _your_ inconvenient lack of a brilliant author as a father.”

* * *

“Let’s see what today has in store for us,” Rey mumbled to herself as she drove.

She hadn’t seen Luke in months. Anytime she saw her father, it was always the same; pleasantries, superficial questions of how the other was doing, all to muffle the blasting sound of unspoken tension. It was like there was a circus-sized elephant in the room. She didn’t know how it got there, but it was always the obstacle in between them.

Luke was always different. He was always in his own world, nearly impossible to get a grasp on and pull back to the world of the living.

When she was a child, it was captivating. He allowed her in that secret dreamworld he lived in. Every idea, each tiny whim she conceived was always encouraged to be acted upon. Daydreams of mythical creatures, daring knights, rebellious princesses that haunted outer space— it was all encouraged by Luke. Maybe it was his way of being a good father. She didn’t know. It didn’t matter in the end. It was perfect.

She thought it was, anyway. She didn’t realize her mother and he didn’t coexist well in real life. Luke was locked away in his own reality, and Mara Jade was blocked off from it at one point. When that point came, she didn’t know. But the barrier between them, that circus-sized obstacle— it was always there, from as early as she could remember.

And now it was there between Luke and her. Luke had never spoken a fowl word to her, or her mother for that matter; as she grew up, she saw that perhaps his wordless defiance was the heart of the problem. Luke had so much inside him, roaring embers of intrigue and imagination, and yet he locked it away. Luke’s mind was a castle, his glimmering thoughts and ideas remercient of stardust were the treasures locked inside. But his inability to reciprocate, to open himself— to love, really— kept others out. He was the dragon that guarded the castle.

Instead of breathing fire, he breathed out frost. Ice. Coldness. A layer of ice that didn’t burn the skin like golden flames but singed and pinched all the same.

The phone rang.

The screen on her dashboard that was synced to her phone via Bluetooth showed her who was calling:

Finn Storm.

She pressed the button to accept.

“Hey Finn!”

“Hey Rey! How are you?”

“Good! Good, actually. Funny you should call. I was actually heading over, I wanted to speak with Lu—dad,” she corrected herself.

While she couldn’t see him, she could tell Finn was fidgeting. Finn was a nervous person, by nature. He was the sort of person you could merely look at and know he had severe allergies; that he loved sci-fi and lived in a fantasy world; he knew his way around a computer; bolder in Dungeons and Dragons than he could ever be in real life. It was endearing all the same though. Finn was sweet and loyal, unrelenting in his dedication to Luke Skywalker. Really, he was the best personal assistant anyone could ask for.

But he seemed especially antsy as he stammered about on the other end of the call. “Well, Rey— you see, that’s why I was calling. Me, Jannah, Snap— none of us can, well, _find_ Luke. I mean, your dad.”

Her brow furrowed and nose pinched. “What do you mean ‘ _find_ ’ him?”

“Well, he was here last night working away, you know, as usual. We were here too. He wanted to be left alone and I figured as much since, you know, the last issue comes out tomorrow. But I went in to give him his usual order from Starbucks, like every morning... and he was gone. I’ve tried calling and everything, but to no avail.”

“Maybe he’s with Wedge or something? He probably got plastered.”

“No, we called Wedge, all of his usual friends... no one has seen him. And there were no bottles or anything on his desk, bed, the trash... nothing, Peanut.”

She frowned. It wasn’t inconceivable to think her father would just wander off on his own without notice; that was very much in the realm of things he would do, true to his elusive nature. Especially if he had been drinking.

_But all day? No notice at all? On an important day like this?_

“That’s strange. Okay. I’m almost there, just wait for me and we’ll figure it out. Alright?”

Small rumbles of air whistled through the speaker, indicating that Finn was nodding. “Okay, sounds good. See you.”

Luke’s loft was only a few minutes away. The same loft she spent the first few years of her life; it should feel like coming home, but it didn’t. To Rey, it felt like she was simply running an errand, stopping by an office. Luke might have lived there, but really, everything about Luke revolved around work; thus, it made sense that his home had become more of a writing den. A work station of sorts. He slaved over ‘W’ for countless hours, probably days on end. The only way of differentiating the loft as a home rather than office was the random, small room that served as a bedroom; he had a kitchen too, but that was hardly ever used.

The whole place was covered in stray papers, worn out notebooks and sketch pads, bulks of wire, and sticky notes plastering the wall like wallpaper. It was as messy and intricate as one would assume an artist’s workspace would be. Every inch of the place was touched by something related to ‘W,’ whether it be framed first-edition copies, awards and accolades achieved due to the major success of the series, various ideas and rough drafts, thrown about and discarded. Every inch of Luke’s life was touched by ‘W.’ It was like ‘W’ was his child; consuming him, crying and calling for his attention at every waking hour.

But Rey didn’t resent it. Not anymore. She saw how happy ‘W’ made Luke once she and her mom left; it was like he was a shell of a person, nothing bright about him anymore. But ‘W’ was the outlet he desperately needed to satisfy that restless zeal, filling him with light. She felt him close himself off from that force within when they left, the same one that ran through her all those years ago before. But his body and mind were illuminated with it once again.

And hers was reignited once more as well. ‘W’ had satisfied a yearning she had that she wasn’t even aware of before. Its message was a core facet of her beliefs: hope. Never giving up. That hope could be bigger than fear.

Upon entering, she was immediately swept by Finn, tugging her arm toward the living room.

“Hey, Peanut,” she greeted. She and he called each other ‘Peanut,’ referring to a running joke they had about the peanut-like shape of her head.

“Hey,” he sighed. He was out of breath.

She set her bag down after greeting Jannah and Snap. “So tell me what all happened.”

His face was pained. “I’m not even exaggerating, Rey. We were here _all_ night, and we’ve been awake like 24/7. Luke is _nowhere_ to be found. No one saw him leave! His car is still here and everything.”

Rey didn’t answer. Instead, she went past him and opened her dad’s room. Luke usually worked at the main desk in the living room and his staffers worked in the auxiliary office, but when Luke needed to be alone and be able to focus all of his attention, he went to his room. There was a small, cluttered desk with a beaten office chair across from his bed, which was always unmade.

Luke wasn’t there. She went to the desk, hoping to find some sort of indication of where he might have gone. Every now and then Luke will scribble a short note, vaguely indicating his plans. Simple things, like ‘ _breakfast, 10_ ’ to indicate he had plans to go to breakfast at 10 in the morning. But nothing like that could be found.

Something did catch Rey’s eye, though. A piece of paper, roughly the size of a trading card and laminated like one. She picked it up to inspect it more closely. On it was the sepia-toned, dark depiction of a dastardly, bearded, ginormous beast snarling onward, holding a ragged, naked body with its head torn off. Blood was dripping from where the neck would be, and the arm was in the creature’s mouth mid-bite. The creature’s eyes were wild, enlarged and piercing as he knelt on one knee and consumed his human-like victim.

She recognized the painting. It was by Fransisco Goya; ‘ _Saturn Devouring His Son_ ’ was captioned on the far right bottom corner of the picture in italics.

_Why would dad have this?_

__

It was an unnerving, random discovery. When she flipped the paper in her fingers to set it down, she noticed the scrawling on the back. In Luke’s mechanical, tight, all-caps handwriting, it said:

‘ _I’d rather eat than be eaten._ ’

Her face soured along with her gut.

“What does that mean?” She murmured to herself as she all but slammed it on the desk, making sure the grizzly depiction of the Greek God was turned face-down.

Finn cleared his throat, causing her to notice him lurking shyly in the doorway. “Did you... did you see... it?”

His eyes were wide, expression grave. “This?” She held up the picture.

His nose crinkled and brows knitted as he stepped closer to see what she was holding. He took it from her, looking at it carefully. He shook his head. “I didn’t see this when I last saw him.”

“What does he mean? On the back it says ‘ _I’d rather eat than be eaten._ ’ Do you have any clue as to what he might’ve meant by that?”

He shrugged, defeated. “No clue at all. But Rey— did you see what he was working on?”

Her head cocked. “No...”

Finn frowned and held her eyes while he hesitantly sat down at the desk. His eyes went glossy and a drop of sweat trickled down his face as he turned on the old drawing tablet Luke used to do the key illustrations. He had it for years, it seemed; it was bulky and outdated, and he surely could afford a newer, nicer version, but he was absolutely attached to this one.

He hooked a finger around the collar of his T-shirt, like it was too snug on him.

“Last night, when I last saw him... it was the weirdest thing, Peanut. He was just... he was sitting here, going at this tablet with his stylus like a madman. He was jaunty and very animated. I had to call him twice before he noticed me. He was in this crazy haze— he looked _crazy_ , and I mean that with full respect. Like, his eyes were even bluer than usual and he was laughing. I have not heard that man laugh like that ever. He was _maniacal_ , Rey. It was the weirdest thing. He looked... he looked _evil_.”

Finn mimicked the expression he’d seen on Luke. His brows knitted together, his eyes shifted, his mouth stretched into a wide grin, and he stared down at the tablet like a fiend torturing his victim.

Luke had an intense face as is; arctic blue eyes, pin-like pupils, deep as the sea and ancient as the earth. He wasn’t particularly old though. He had his fair share of wrinkles, as well as moles spattered on his skin, and the shadow of a dusty-blond/salt-and-pepper beard covering the lower half. So to imagine him making a face like that... it was unnerving.

Rey gulped. “What was he... what was he doing, Finn?”

He gave her one last pleading, almost remorseful look and then sighed. “I went up to him and asked him if he wanted some coffee. Usually he wants a cup around 9 PM if he’s pulling an all-nighter. But when I went up to him... he was working on this.”

Using his index finger, he scrolled and swiped around the screen and navigated to the folder that read ‘ _W— Finale._ ’

Once he clicked it, the finished illustration filled the screen.

Rey chocked on the air that was leaving her lungs, absolutely horrified.

It was a night scene. Dark and murky, with the only sources of light being the hollow outlines of open windows belonging to skyscrapers. Despite the ambiguity of night, it was clearly the city, Chandrila. Chandrila, the setting of ‘W,’ was the equivalent of New York, the city they lived in.

And in the back was the obscured silhouette of a man walking away, clad in all-black and loosely grasping a gun, letting it droop down his side, unbothered if it fell or not. He was a familiar form, donning a long black cloak with a hood, accompanied by distinct, shiny black combat boots.

“Snoke!” She gasped to herself. It was the same, unknown assailant that annihilated the Solo family at the beginning of the issue.

It was expected that Ben Solo would finally catch the villain in this final issue, revealing his identity and motive for destroying his life. He had been dubbed ‘S.N.O.K.E,’ a head canon developed by fans. Super Nefarious, Omniscient Killing Evildoer. The nickname had become so popular among fans, Luke had eventually adapted it into the actual storyline, making it officially cannon.

At the forefront of the ominous scene was Ben Solo.

Ben Solo was splayed on the ground, some sort of dark, industrial-like lot made of pavement. There was a pool of blood around him, centering from his chest. He was laying supine-position, eyes closed with his arms at his side as he bled out; the crimson blotted into his white dress shirt.

Dead.

In traditional comic-style, a word bubble was placed, saying the worst thing she had ever seen:

‘ _The End._ ’

She couldn’t hold back the scream that came out. Her hand went to her mouth, covering it as she gasped and gaped helplessly at the image in front of her.

“He— he—,” she struggled. “He... he _killed_ Ben?”

Finn nodded sorrowfully. “I couldn’t believe it either. I couldn’t even get a word in though. I tried to tell him that this was gonna be bad, like the backlash he’s gonna get for this will be...,” he looked ahead, eyes widened.

“I don’t even wanna think of that. People are gonna be pissed. I’m pissed, and you know I stan your dad. Like, how could he do this? He was set on it though. He refused to listen to me. He was enjoying himself, Rey. He was having a good time as he was drawing this,” he flared his hand out toward the screen, disgusted.

“He was having _fun_?”

Rey couldn’t believe it. That was the most gut-churning, devastating, cruelest possible outcome for the story. And yet, here it was in front of her.

As vivid and clear as could be.

Despite it all, despite all the trials he had overcome and all the good Ben Solo had done in his life, no matter how bad things got, here he was. Dead. And the person— the evildoer that had caused the bulk of his misfortunes, was just walking away without a care in the world.

_No, it can’t be_. Rey couldn’t accept it.

_This can’t be it._

_This is not the end of Ben Solo._

“How could he do this?” She whispered. Her voice broke as the tears in her eyes spilled out. It felt like such a betrayal. It felt personal, like the very essence of hope was being snuffed out of her. Ben Solo was something very personal to her, as crazy as it seemed. She felt it. She felt like he was the personification of hope and overcoming impossible odds. He lived by his motto, ‘ _Never Tell Me The Odds_.’ She saw something in him; just the shape of it, but solid and clear. It was like he was a reflection of her. Her hopes, her fears, her love, her hate.

The heartbreak she felt was just as profound as it would be if she lost someone she knew personally. She had been loyal to this fictional man as she would be with a real best friend. It often felt like when no one else was there for her, he was. It was strange, and she knew it; she knew it was crazy to feel so strongly for someone who wasn’t real. But he felt real. Everything about him and his world felt very real to her, like each illustration was just a snapshot of the life of a real, living person. Real situations, real thoughts, real feelings.

She had never expressed these sentiments to anyone before, not even Luke. She couldn’t. She knew she’d sound insane for having such a strong bond and personal attachment to a fictional character. But everything about him was endearing. He represented so much to her.

They were painted in the same colors, it felt. Cut from the same material, two halves of a set. Something whole. His heroism had been the sole inspiration for her throughout some of the most challenging times in her life.

She identified with him. The same loneliness and despair he was plagued with was familiar to her.

She felt that same lostness that he felt when he lost his parents.

To her, she had lost her mother in father in all ways but physical. Luke shut her out when her mother left him, taking her with her.

The hurt Mara Jade felt from the separation was too much, so she sent Rey away. She went to a boarding school in England when she was a child and stayed there until her late teens. By the time she had returned, she was a stranger to her parents. They were strangers to her.

Life would be the same with them right next to me as it would be if I was still an ocean away from them, she lamented.

Her family had been torn apart, like Ben’s. Only it was her own father who had done it, rather than a faceless, unknown murderer.

She understood Ben Solo’s solidarity and loneliness all too well. She knew how it felt to miss something that could never be restored. To only have oneself to depend on.

To be given up on.

To lose hope.

She didn’t realize she had fully given way to tears until she felt Finn give her shoulder a kind pat. He handed her a tissue. “I’m so sorry, peanut,” he cooed.

When she looked to him, she saw he was also crying. “I know this is hard for you. I kept looking to see if there were any other files, like maybe this was just a muck-up or something. But Luke’s supposed to send this in tonight, so... I don’t know.”

“Wait... what if... do you think maybe this got leaked somehow? Cause that’d mean a lot of people have motive to wanna... do something about it.”

He gasped. “Oh god. I hope not. Oh god, I’m panicking... this is bad. Very bad. Very very not good. Maybe he has another file, somewhere secret. I’m gonna make a few more calls, okay?”

She nodded, thanking him as he walked out and closed the door behind him. She wanted to be worried and troubled by this but couldn’t help but feel bitter and scorned toward her father, not only for doing this to a most beloved figure, but for putting his long-suffering staff through this.

His researcher, Jannah, illustrator, Snap, and Finn had been up with him, catering to his every need and whim since the beginning. They’ve always been on his team, helping bring ‘W’ to life. His own personal bitterness was no excuse for the way he treated them; he was known for being short, cold, and snarky with them whenever his mood was low. They put up with it even still. But this— this was a new low, to leave them hanging on the most important, hectic day of their careers. To leave them hanging on the day the grand finale of ‘W’ was supposed to be sent in was just cruel. Luke had a dark side, this Rey knew well. But this was totally unlike him. This felt like something else.

This felt sinister.

Her eyes shut as she plopped down on the chair. She tried to even her breathing and calm down so she could go back out there and face the others. Sentimentality aside, her father was MIA and she needed to help out.

_Just one more minute_ , she decided.

She was awoken from her brief musings by the feeling of a hand gripping her arm.

“Sorry, I’m coming,” she murmured to Finn with a sigh.

When she opened her eyes though, Finn wasn’t there.

Not at in front of her, behind her, or to her side.

Once she looked to her side, her heart stopped completely. She couldn’t even manage out a scream, it happened so fast. Everything in front of her faded out as she was pulled away.

A bloodied arm was tugging at her, pulling her down across the desk.

It was a man’s arm, strong and firm.

Clad in a blood-soaked white dress shirt.

Stretched out, _pulling her in_.

_Into_ the tablet.

_Into_ the comic.

_Into ‘W.’_

_By him—_

_Ben Solo_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to pop this one out! 
> 
> ‘W’ cover edit by me 
> 
> ‘Saturn, Devouring His Son’ by Fransisco Goya (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saturn_Devouring_His_Son)
> 
> ‘The End’ snapshot manip by me (it’s a screen cap from the actual show that I edited) 
> 
> Lmk what you think! Love your comments, kudos, tweets, DMs, etc!
> 
> Say hi to me on Twitter :)) I have a Reylo thread/text fic on my account going now, called ‘Slowly’ being updated there; I plan to update it here too but probably not until I finish it on twitter
> 
> Twitter:
> 
> Twitter.com/ang3lview 
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to watch ‘W’ (which you should), it’s available on ‘Vicki,’ a channel you can subscribe to either online or through roku!
> 
> Cover art (Reylo Portraits) done by Seluchum, one of my favorite artists!! Thank you for everything, Selina! 
> 
> Check her out on twitter !!!
> 
> Twitter.com/seluchum 
> 
> The imagine in chapter 1 was edited/manipulated by me for the novelty of this fic, as will most of the pics. I’m not very good at editing rip sorry but at the beginning of the story, Ben is 17 so I wanted to make him look young and goofy


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